The End of the Interlude
by jamelia116
Summary: AU? Or NOT AU? That is the question. Just when Kathryn and Chakotay had accepted their life together on New Earth, Tuvok's call about the cure brings them back to the one they'd thought was over forever. Missing scenes from "Resolutions."


=/\=

"That _is_ the sun, isn't it?"

"And those are the birds chirping away, the way they do at dawn every day, Kathryn," Chakotay replied. He changed his position slightly, nudging himself to the left while he leaned a little more on his ride side, so that she could remain snuggled against his body, but he would be able to see more of her face.

She stretched and yawned widely. "I'm very tempted to sleep in this morning," she murmured in the even-huskier-that-usual tones he always thought of as her "morning voice."

"Why don't you? Is there anything so important you have on 'today's agenda' that can't wait until tomorrow?" He did not bother to hide the flippant edge that slipped into his comment. Following a daily agenda, one which usually was smashed into smithereens by mid-morning - if it even lasted that long - was in the past, not the present. They made plans, of course. He thought of the drawing for building an essential item for a trip they'd talked of taking. He might be able to unveil it today, if he decided the time was right. But even that could wait. They had time now, all the time in the world.

She answered him with an even huskier reply. "The tomatoes do need weeding, but I guess it won't hurt if I don't get to them right away."

She rolled over on top of him, pushing his head down onto his pillow. Propping her hands against the headboard he'd made for her, she added, "Would you like to suggest another activity of much greater importance we should take care of first?"

"Well, if you put it that way, Kathryn . . . " He pulled her head down and kissed her deeply. Her lips answered his with a hunger that suggested she would be happy to consent to the one he'd had in mind. She wiggled against him, and he replied by stroking his hands slowly down her back. Wordlessly, they agreed upon checking off an initial item that usually appeared on their agenda for the day.

It was a very satisfying first activity for both of them.

=/\=

Over breakfast, she said, "You know, I really do need to work in our garden today. You wouldn't care to help me this morning?"

"Actually, I've got a project I need to complete in here."

"You've been very secretive lately about something. I gather it isn't another bathtub," she observed, sipping from the one cup of replicated coffee she allowed herself per day. She really did need to find a plant substitute to provide her morning necessity soon. Now that returning to _Voyager_ would never happen, they needed to be very careful with their energy consumption by using the portable replicator sparingly. Solar panel power would only go so far, with the limited number they had available.

He smiled - secretively, she noticed. "No, it's not a bathtub. It's a surprise."

"I hope it's a good one. I only like good surprises."

"I think it will fit the parameters of a 'good surprise,'" Chakotay replied. "Maybe later today, in fact. If you get to your weeding, I could get to my work in here more quickly."

"Is that an offer to clean up after breakfast?"

"I guess it is."

"Then let me get my tools and I'll get out of your way," she said, laughing. Draining her cup, she stood up and slid out of her chair. "Call me whenever you're ready to share your surprise," she said gaily over her shoulder, as she picked up her garden tool box and exited the shelter.

Picking up his own cup, he sipped the last of his herb tea and grinned to himself. Now that the cat was out of the bag, he _had_ to finish up his project and show her today. Her boundless curiosity would make it difficult to maintain enough secrecy to surprise her if he didn't.

=/\=

"How are they coming?" Chakotay asked, as he stepped out of their shelter.

"Very nicely. We should have vine-ripened Talaxian tomatoes in a couple of months. Unless this planet has the equivalent of tomato bugs." She grimaced, "Yuck! They're awful!"

"I would never have thought of you as a gardener."

"I grew up around farmers. And my parents insisted we learn some basic gardening skills," she said, smoothing the dirt around the roots of one of the plants growing in her vegetable plot.

"Did you hate that as much as camping?" he inquired. Her answer was very pertinent to the plan he was going to present to her.

"Of course! Who wanted to muck around in the dirt when you could be studying quantum mechanics?" she said with a laugh, in which he joined her. "But I find it very satisfying now, watching seeds sprout and grow . . ."

"Knowing that a terrific spaghetti sauce is on its way . . ." he said, eying the nearby row of herbaceous plants they'd found and transplanted there. They were still undecided if they should give them new names, or if they should just call them by what they tasted like: fresh parsley, onion, basil, sweet pepper, oregano.

"Spaghetti sauce? That's what you'd do with fresh tomatoes?" she kneeled back and looked at him, in mock horror.

"What would you do?" he asked.

"Eat them! Right off the vine. Trust me, you'll never cook a tomato again."

 _'Except when there are extras we can't eat,'_ he thought to himself. Then, when she was loathe to waste them, he'd suggest canning them. As spaghetti sauce. It would be the perfect way to enjoy their flavor after the weather turned - as it was bound to do in several months. Rather than take a chance at spoiling her obvious good mood, however, he said only, "If your tomatoes could spare you for a minute, I'd like your opinion on something in the house."

"You've come to the right person. I always have an opinion," she answered. Clearly, she knew she was about to receive his promised "surprise."

"Really?" he drawled knowingly, as he led her into the shelter.

Once inside, he pointed to the plans he'd drawn up. If she still wasn't willing to go camping . . . but, of course, it was her expressed desire for the trip that prompted this project in the first place. "What do you think?"

Kathryn examined the schematic. "A boat?" she said, with a hint of excitement in her voice.

"You wanted to explore the river. I think I could build this."

"We could go on a camping trip!" Her smile widened, pleasing him greatly. She'd find plenty to complain about whenever they stopped to make camp, but they'd have lovely memories of their time on the river nonetheless. She was, after all, first and foremost a scientist by nature. And the nature of New Earth was exactly what they'd have a chance to examine more closely on this trip. Of course, her tomatoes might not be happy about the lack of attention while they were gone. He wondered, with a bubble of inner amusement, if they could persuade their monkey neighbor to do a little weeding and watering while they were away.

He felt obligated to point out, "I'm not sure we can fit the bathtub in the boat."

"That's all right, I'll have the river."

He was about to joke about her conversion to the pleasures of "roughing it" when a tinny sound from behind him sounded. He heard it once more, and realized he'd heard it a bit earlier, too, when he was thinking about hiring a monkey to become their apprentice gardener. Moving to the closed cupboard, he opened the door.

 _::: . . . to Captain Janeway. Do you read me?:::_

He looked at Kathryn. From her expression, she was as shocked as he was.

 _:::This is Tuvok, calling Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay. Please respond.:::_

Kathryn hesitantly picked up her combadge. "This is Janeway . . ."

 _:::Captain. It's good to hear your voice. We have news . . . :::_

"What is it?"

 _:::We have medicine which we believe will effectively treat your condition. We plan to be in orbit within thirty hours.:::_

"Medicine? How?"

 _:::It's a lengthy story, one which I'm sure the crew will enjoy telling you when you're back on board.:::_

"Yes . . . we . . . we look forward to it."

 _:::I will contact you again when we arrive. Tuvok out.:::_

For a long time they stood there, gazing at each other. Already, he felt a touch of anger as their plans for the boat, their trip . . . even for eating those luscious tomatoes she was so proud of growing . . . all came crashing down around them. He wanted to believe this was all a nightmare, that he would wake up any minute.

But he knew he was awake, and it was actually happening.

=/\=

Thirty hours. That was almost a day and a half on New Earth. That's all the time they'd have to pack up everything around them. It couldn't stay on the planet. Not only were these items needed on _Voyager_ , which was always critically short of some type of resource or other, the Prime Directive forbid leaving sophisticated technology behind on any planet at a primitive level of development - and they didn't come much more primitive than New Earth. If they started work immediately, they should be ready before _Voyager_ arrived in orbit. She didn't want anyone from the crew to beam down and help them. She didn't know how much medicine they had available. Where did it come from? Had the Doctor managed to find an answer after all, despite his misgivings?

The longer they stood there, immobile, in shock, the harder it would be to finish in time.

Without saying a word, she moved to the storage area, picked up a couple of storage crates, and began to pack.

=/\=

They worked all day, leaving out only the items they would need on the morrow. Food and utensils for meals at the end of this day, and in the morning. Toilet articles.

Uniforms.

They packed up the peripherals to the computer, Chakotay's construction tools, and the ones she used for gardening. PADDs. Games and recreational items - not that they had been used much. There had always been more important things to do that pleased them more, like exploring their environment and writing down their discoveries and speculations about the science of this place.

The replicator and most of the furniture would be packed in the morning. They needed something to sit on when they ate, and a bed to sleep in.

The tomatoes would remain, since they didn't qualify as sophisticated technology, and she couldn't bring herself to uproot them. Maybe in the morning she'd feel differently.

They said very little, only communicating what they needed to say. She requested his help with things she couldn't manage alone. He would ask her if she thought they should wait until tomorrow to pack something, or if they could do without it until they returned to the ship.

Their evening meal was virtually silent. She picked at her food, and Chakotay didn't have much of an appetite, either. After dinner, they both spent a few moments on personal log entries before shutting down the computer. They agreed it should remain in place for the rest of the evening, in case they needed to look up something, but a crate and packing materials were left next to it, all ready for them to use in the morning.

By this time they were exhausted, not just from the physical work-out, but from a deeper weariness that had nothing to do with muscles and tendons and everything to do with a spiritual emptiness. As their shelter took on the look of any home which was soon to be abandoned, the very air seemed different. All the warmth which had filled these small rooms during the past month had been sucked away. When they fell into bed, the joyous beginning of the day had been erased by the overwhelming sense that a death had occurred, and they had been at a funeral all day.

Perhaps, in a way, they had.

=/\=

She lay next to him on their bed. He wanted to say something, anything. He wanted her to say something - anything. He could not find the words. Finally, he gathered her up into his arms. At first she was stiff, unresponsive. He considered simply holding her close all night, to provide the comfort of his body, as he had after she had finally given in to the reality of living the rest of their lives on New Earth. After their medical research equipment had been shattered in the storm, neither of them could imagine this turn of events.

Gradually, however, her body relaxed. He began to kiss her brow, then her cheek, then her hair and finally her mouth. Perhaps her body answered him of its own volition, but she did not put a halt to his movements. They made love one more time, with caresses that screamed "good-bye" even as their spirits were briefly soothed. He knew it would soon end, but he took it as slowly as he could, engraving the feel of her into his memories, deeply, permanently. Sad as it was, he wanted to remember this forever.

It didn't last as long he wished, but it was as long as they would have.

They collapsed against each other, finally relaxed enough to fall asleep. As he dozed, he wondered if he would dream of anything tonight. Or if he would ever dream of anything as lovely again. He suspected he would not.

=/\=

Their breakfast was as silent as last night's dinner had been. They dressed and returned to packing. Now they had a time limit. Everything had to be ready when Tuvok contacted them again. As soon as each crate was filled, he carried it outside the shelter into the clearing by the garden. A few times, he needed her help, but in the end, they accomplished their tasks with a minimum of comment.

Finally, it was done. The shelter was almost empty, devoid now of any of the little touches that signify a home. The only thing remaining inside was the bed, with its carved headboard and warm bedding. They had already donned their uniforms, with their combadges on their chests, when he asked her why they'd left the bed until last.

"I don't know if we should leave the headboard behind," she finally admitted. "Somehow, it seems . . . symbolic of our time here."

"Take it, Kathryn. I made it for you as a gift, so you could read in bed more easily. No one needs to know anything more about it than that."

"Would you be very angry if I decided to leave it?"

He shook his head. "Your Angry Warrior isn't angry any more. I'd say he's more resigned. It's the story of my life. It seems my plans are always ruined by unforeseen events. I've almost grown to expect it. I'll get through this. We both will."

His Warrior Princess struggled to keep the trembling out of her voice. "How?"

He opened his arms, and she leaned into his embrace. He stroked her hair softly, enjoying the feel of her body against his, knowing this might be something he would never feel again.

"We'll cope. Persevere. Just as we always have since we landed on the Caretaker's doorstep."

They sat down on the bed they'd shared for over a month, ever since the storm's fury ended her scientific pursuits. That night, after she insisted they had to talk about "establishing parameters," he'd told her an old story of his people: of the Angry Warrior, who struggled for years with the demons inside him and found satisfaction only when he was in battle, until his war party was captured by the tribe of a Warrior Princess. She asked him to join his tribe to hers, to defend all of them from attackers. He swore he would never leave her side, helping to make her burdens lighter. Only then was the warrior to begin to know the true meaning of peace.

She'd been too wise to be fooled. "Is that really an ancient legend?"

He admitted it was not, but saying it like this "made it easier to tell you."

After he told her he loved her, she came into his arms. And they'd kissed.

So often, she had casually touched him, on the bridge, or in the conference room, to emphasize a point, perhaps, or to comfort him when tragedy had claimed one of their people. Each time her fingers grazed against him, he never flinched. He could not. As her first officer, and one who respected Starfleet protocols just as much as she did, it was not his place to react, positively or negatively. They'd managed to maintain that emotional distance, even if they had become so close in many other ways.

But that night, they both accepted that the protocols no longer applied. When she embraced him, she let him know she had finally come to grips with an undeniable fact: they were destined to spend the rest of their lives on this planet. Alone. They didn't need to suppress their feelings for each other anymore. They were free just to be Kathryn and Chakotay. Even if that undercurrent of emotions hadn't been present, the simple comfort offered by sharing their bodies would have been fully justified. It had turned into something so much more.

The following days and weeks were wonderful. He was the happiest he'd ever been. The Angry Warrior truly had found the meaning of peace by loving his Starfleet Warrior Princess.

And they'd coped, outlining a different future for themselves than either one had ever expected. Now that future would be wiped out, because the tribes they'd been forced to leave behind had called them back and were coming for them. It was time to face another destiny, another future: the one they'd thought they'd put behind them forever.

After a time she leaned away from him, a subtle separation which told him, more than any words ever could, they'd reached the true time of parting, even though their hands and fingers were tightly intertwined. She looked up into his face. He saw the expression there he suspected she saw mirrored on his own. "I guess it's time we spoke of 'setting parameters' again, Kathryn."

She lowered her eyes, gazed at their hands, which were still clasped together, and whispered, "Yes, it's time. Chakotay . . . ."

"It's over for us," he said.

"Yes. It must be. I can't ignore the protocols a captain is expected to follow regarding relationships with _anyone_ under her direct chain of command - even if this situation is one I don't think anyone in Starfleet Command ever could have anticipated."

"I understand. I went through Starfleet Academy, too. And to Command School. Advanced Tactical Training. I covered the subject when I was training other officers. As much as it hurts to agree with you, it's the right way for a captain to act towards her subordinates. All of them.

"You didn't exactly follow those rules in the Maquis." Her mouth was crimped in that semi-amused way she had, even if the look in her eyes was still that of a mourner at a wake.

"I'd say the story of my time with Seska is the cautionary tale to end all cautionary tales on the subject. It's a perfect illustration of why it's vital for a captain to follow those protocols to the letter. Don't you agree?"

"Exhibit 'A' in the Starfleet Textbook in the captain's 'Hands Off Your Underlings' entry?"

"Something like that." He shook his head, smiling ruefully. It was hard to joke about it, especially with the rapacious Cardassian spy roaming free with her Kazon allies.

Kathryn didn't pursue the reference any further. "I'm sure you're right." Her voice descended to its deepest registers as she added, "So it . . . doesn't bother you for us to say it's over now?"

"I didn't say it didn't bother me. It does. I think it always will, for decades, most likely. Certainly for as long as we're together on _Voyager_. But that doesn't mean our decision is wrong. The subject of crew fraternization will come up with members of the crew in the future, especially if we're out here as long as we think we'll be, but for the command team . . . no. It just isn't viable. For us to continue our relationship, holding the positions that we do . . . it can't be. My job is to keep you safe and carry out your orders; but I need to be able to challenge your decisions if I feel I must, for everyone's safety, and especially yours. If we had a serious disagreement, it would almost certainly bleed over into our personal life. At the very least, that would be unsettling for the crew. Maybe it would have been different if we first came together while we were serving as junior officers on the same ship and became a couple. But that isn't what's happened."

"Even if we'd already formed a stable bond, those problems could arise, especially with the insane situation we face out here. The strain on the relationship would be tremendous."

"True enough. But at least you wouldn't have been following me with orders to arrest me. We'd either both be in the Maquis, or I'd never have resigned my Starfleet commission."

"Which do you think it would have been?" she asked.

"I don't have a clue. Do you?"

Her only reply was a resigned sigh.

"I think we're in agreement, then."

"Yes, Chakotay. The _Entre'act_ is over. The second act is beginning."

Wordlessly, he patted the bed. The question was there in his eyes, a yearning for one more time, one more good-bye to the private life they were losing. But she slowly shook her head. "No, Commander. The second act _has_ already begun. If I agreed to 'one more time, for old times' sake,' I'd never be able to hold on to my resolve once we were back on _Voyager_."

"You can't fault me for trying, though."

Her laugh was soft, without a trace of humor in it. "Not at all. I hope this doesn't interfere with the Angry Warrior's commitment to the Warrior Princess's tribe."

"Never," he said, with an intensity that turned it into a promise.

For a long time they gazed into each other's eyes. Or was it an infinitesimally short time? Time had no meaning, only the shared pain which obscured any other thought. Eventually, the responsibilities they were about to reassume shoved their way into awareness. They realized they'd sat here on this bed long enough, grieving for the loss of something precious which they'd love to be able to save, but knew they could not.

He finally ended the impasse. "They'll be here before nightfall. I might as well pack up the bedding now to remove temptation. Should one of us take custody of the pillows?"

"I'll let it be your decision, Commander."

The air in the shelter seemed to dissipate for a few seconds, but eventually he was able to respond, "As you say, Captain." They stood up, and he began to pull off the blanket. She pulled on the other end half-heartedly before excusing herself and walking out into the sunshine. It was one of New Earth's more spectacular days, with a clear sky and the lightest of breezes cooling her face. Perhaps the evaporation of moisture from the captain's cheeks helped the breeze in its task. She resolved she would not speak of it to anyone, particularly him.

They had come to a consensus. There really was no point in going over the pros and cons anymore. All they could do now was pick up after themselves, remove the shattered pieces of the life and love they were leaving, and sweep them away from sight, if not from memory. Never that. They would dwell deep within, hidden away from the view of their crew. The story they would tell them of their lives here would be a falsehood: "No, we never crossed that line."

Perhaps someday they'd even manage to convince themselves they'd never crossed it, even though, of course, they had.

=/\=

He walked over and placed a last crate in front of the huge pile the crew would transport up to Cargo Bay One, after their captain and their commander had been transported back up to the ship. Both of them took in their surroundings, to imprint the image of what they'd thought would be home for a lifetime onto their mind's eye.

A movement in a nearby tree caught her eye. She smiled as their furry neighbor showed himself to her. Kathryn took a step towards the monkey, holding out her hand in welcome, as she always had when she saw him.

"There you are. At least I get to say good-bye to you." She paused then and added, "Feel free to use the house."

Turning back to Chakotay, she touched her combadge and signaled, "Janeway to _Voyager_. Two to beam up."

As they shimmered away, the monkey held out his own hand, in imitation of his human friend.

=/\=

Once all the containers, the furniture, and the equipment shimmered away, only the garden and the shelter remained. Their monkey friend might eat the tomatoes. Perhaps they'd go wild, becoming a foreign, invasive species on this world. Or maybe they'd die from lack of rain and care. The almost indestructible shelter itself should remain for years, but whether anyone would ever live in it again, even the monkey, they'd never know for sure.

=/\=

They stood side by side on turbolift. They never looked at each other. No words were exchanged. They all had already been said. The doors slid smoothly open, as they walked onto the bridge. He took his seat in the second-of-command's chair, tapped the terminal in the armrest, and used his code to sign in. He was ready to work.

When they'd been left on New Earth, it had been Kathryn's duty to say the final farewell to their devastated crew. Now that they had returned, it was her duty to address them again.

"Thank you all," she said firmly. "Well, we've lost a couple of months with all this. Let's try to make some of it up. Mister Paris, highest cruising speed."

"Aye, Captain," the helmsman responded.

Without looking back, she ordered, "Commander, please review the personnel files of the last several months. You'll want to familiarize yourself with events during the time we were gone."

"Aye, Captain. Should I make a report to you?"

"That isn't necessary. I'll leave it in your hands." Your very capable hands, she wanted to say, but she could not, not here, and truthfully, not anywhere. Not in the context she really meant. Not anymore.

He answered her in the manner he seldom used, because he knew she wasn't fond of it. It was the response of an officer of lower status. 'He must be doing it for the benefit of the crew,' she thought, when he quietly said, "Yes, ma'am."

She couldn't bear to look at him, so she couldn't be sure he'd never looked up at her. It would be too painful to see him sitting in that chair again, behind her. He was still the warrior who'd joined his tribe with the princess's. No longer angry, she guessed, any more than she was now. Resigned he'd said, and that was how she felt, too. But she never looked back at him to check. Even a shared glance now might break her resolve.

She prayed that no one on the bridge had noticed the stiffness, the awkwardness of their responses to each other. She was relieved that none of them dared to say anything, but she couldn't help but see her pilot. His helm chair was right in front of her. She could not miss the too-bright blue eyes of Lieutenant Paris when he looked quickly up at her, and then glanced back over his shoulder at the commander, before whipping his head around forward.

She would not ask him what he'd seen when his eyes traveled so rapidly across the bridge. Ignoring him was best. Otherwise, she might learn that one senior officer suspected the truth. That's something she'd rather not know.

=/\=

By the end of that first shift, she was exhausted. Lieutenant Paris invited Commander Chakotay, as well as herself, to visit Sandrine's for a nightcap and a game of pool. "You're out of practice, Captain. Maybe I can win back a few credits from you," he'd said, grinning broadly. Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Torres had approached them, too. Three pairs of eager eyes were urging them to say yes.

When Chakotay begged off, saying he really needed to unpack, she used the same excuse. While all three murmured something like, "I understand," they were clearly disappointed, but she couldn't have accepted their invitation. Not tonight. She needed to be alone tonight, to dust off her captain's persona and absorb it into her being once again so she could act more normally tomorrow than she had all day today.

As she walked towards her quarters, several crew members were waiting in the corridor to greet her and welcome her back. She responded in the expected way: "It's good to be back."

By the time she arrived at her door, she was even more tired than she'd been when her shift ended. She stepped inside and, after the door slid shut, she leaned against it gratefully, happy that this stressful day was soon to be at an end.

When she entered her bedroom, she discovered a familiar, hand-carved headboard propped up against the wall at the head of her bed. So it hadn't been left behind after all. She was glad it was here. She realized she would have truly missed it if she had failed to bring it on board. It had been a gift, after all. To discard something beautiful, made for her by his own hands, would have been criminal. In a way, he had presented the gift to her for a second time. She would make sure to have it attached to her wall somewhere in her quarters, even though it didn't exactly match Starfleet's standard décor.

When she unpacked the duffel holding her clothing, she found a pillow wrapped inside the folds of her robe. Only one. She took it to the bed, put it to her face, and breathed in deeply. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the faintest whiff of his hair seemed to linger within its softness. She hoped the one he'd kept for himself retained some small essence of her, too.

It would be all either would have, as long as they remained the captain and first officer of _Voyager_.

=/\=

End

=/\=

Author's Note: I know there were dozens, if not hundreds, of fanfic stories written about this episode ever since it aired. I can't remember ever reading this exact scenario, but if I've accidentally encroached on another author's work, I apologize for any similarities. I've been thinking about how this episode portrayed the J/C relationship for over 20 years now, and I've always felt "they did it" made a lot more sense than "they didn't." Why wouldn't they? They were both very attractive people who were close friends. Once Kathryn lost the ability to find a solution to their medical problem after their equipment was smashed by the storm, they had no hope of seeing any one else for the rest of their lives. I would think they would turn to each other and comfort one another physically, as well as emotionally. They were alone there for months!

So, while the actors and producers have always proclaimed it "didn't happen" on New Earth, I've never believed them. *I have a copy of the final script of "Resolutions," written by Jeri Taylor and dated 2/7/96, with some pages copied from a version dated 1/31/96. They're from the next-to-the-last revision. The pages from 2/7/96 were used to film the episode as shown on UPN. In the pages with the earlier date, after the "Angry Warrior" speech, Chakotay tells Kathryn he loves her, and they kiss. Fade out.

I've seen enough movies made before the '60's to know what that "fade out" really means.

But my belief that they "did" is cemented whenever I view the final scene on the bridge. Janeway and Chakotay don't make eye contact once. I don't believe it's just a matter of them having trouble taking on their roles as captain and commander again. Their coolness to one another means just one thing to me: Yes, they did, but they decided to end their affair once they reassumed their command team roles, not only because of Starfleet protocols, but, more importantly, because they both felt it would be better for the crew if they followed those dictates to the letter. It might (and did) cause them much grief in later years, but they would stick to this "resolution" until they got their people home. That's the way I see it, so that's the way I usually write it.

Afterwards, though, even with Seven and Chakotay seemingly headed towards couplehood . . . well, that might be another story in the making.

 **Now it's time for that ever-popular and necessary "disclaimer."** **Star Trek and all its iterations are owned, lock, stock, and photon torpedo barrel, by Paramount and its allies. I don't. This is simply my impression of what might have happened in the episode, "Resolutions," written by Jeri Taylor.**

I've used the earlier draft's pages in crafting the "Angry Warrior" section. The dialog in the tomato garden, inside the shelter, when Tuvok contacts them through their combadges, the "good-bye to the monkey" scene, and the scene on the bridge after their return to _Voyager_ are all also taken from that script.

The rest is just something that's been running around in my head for, oh, twenty-one years or so. I hope it passes muster. I haven't written a lot of J/C, even though they were always one of my favorite Star Trek couples. There are so many wonderful J/C writers out there! But I'm glad I finally got the chance to put this in writing.

Jamelia116

August, 2017

 _*I obtained the "Resolutions" script at a fan convention many years ago. I have no idea where it came from, but I have a copy of another_ _ST: Voyager_ _script, auctioned off for charity, which I won. I've compared them, and if my "Day of Honor" script is authentic, as the cast member who auctioned it off attested, so is my copy of "Resolutions."_


End file.
